


Heart Between Her Teeth

by CourierNinetyTwo



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: F/F, FeMC - Freeform, First Kiss, extremely minor Royal spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: Akira's helped Makoto figure out a lot of things. There's just one piece that's missing.
Relationships: Kurusu Akira/Niijima Makoto
Comments: 3
Kudos: 108





	Heart Between Her Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> For Rizz!

In Makoto's mind, it made sense that Akira would start taking her places.

After all, she'd dragged the other girl to the arcade, through the red-streaked alleys of Shinjuku, and well —  _ everything _ with Kaneshiro. So when Akira invited her out to a game of billiards at Penguin Sniper, there wasn't a single reason to refuse. 

It was only logical to observe the lean angle of Akira's arm as she lined up a shot, sinking a ball into the corner pocket with one firm tap. There were so many strategies to learn when Akira came around behind her, adjusting the way she held the pool cue with gun-and-blade calloused fingers. She missed her first try, but that could only be blamed on Akira's soft laugh in her ear right before she moved the cue.

The sound had startled her, just a little bit.

Then there was the weekend they'd gone to the aquarium together, and Makoto made a bad joke about all their training having a penguin theme. Akira had smiled at her, in that carefully lopsided way, and made a joke about it not being training at all. At least, that's what Makoto read into the words, because the smile was strangely distracting.

Maybe it was just the glint off her glasses, or all the soft blue light painted over the two of them.

Going to Dome Town together certainly wasn't training, but it was Makoto's way of apologizing after pulling Akira into the saga with Eiko and Tsukasa. She thought a nice big meal in the sunlight would be good for their health, especially since Akira lived in an attic with a diet of at least sixty percent curry and coffee. No offense to Boss.

Not that it seemed to make much of a difference in Akira's stamina. She'd seen the other girl jump to the pullup bar in her room without a second thought, back and arms sharp with muscle at the top of every repetition. Akira swept through Palaces in a low but constant sprint, only stopping to ambush Shadows or give Ryuji's knee a break. It was almost superhuman.

Being Akira's advisor was easy. Makoto knew her plans and observations would be taken seriously, and that Akira only pushed her when it was important. Adrenaline rushed through her veins every time they set up an attack in Mementos together, when the cold fusion behind Johanna's engine turned hot and explosive. Every blow landed harder, faster, until every enemy before them fled, begged for mercy, or turned to dust.

And it felt so  _ good _ .

Not just for morals or justice—although the balance of both was always on Makoto's mind—but in the sense of raw enjoyment. After years of relentless study, of setting her own desires and needs aside, Makoto had to admit she'd forgotten the feeling entirely. Even aikido eventually transitioned from hobby to obligation, providing a physical outlet for stress, and a bit of protection if she had to stay after hours at Shujin. 

Punching a Shadow in the jaw wasn't just about stress. It was rebellion, striking down corruption in a way the real world would never allow. She could do something that  _ mattered _ , a change that happened right before her eyes. 

So the first time she missed, and watched a Shadow's warped teeth lunge for Akira, Makoto's blood turned to mercury—cold and poisonous.

It was instinct and anger and defiance all at once, turning to throw her body across Akira's before the Shadow's gaping maw could slam shut. They rolled across the red floor of Mementos, shot through with black veins that pulsed like a heartbeat, and ended up sprawled against a wall.

"Shit!" Ryuji's curse rang distantly in Makoto's ears. "Panther, let's take that thing out!"

"Akira." Her voice was hoarse from calling to Johanna, summoning her through a dozen cursed floors and countless fights. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Under the mask and sweat-damp curls, Akira smiled. Her teeth were stained a bit red, but the expression was a promise. "Although this isn't how I planned to get you on top of me."

Makoto did a quick review of her limbs—legs flanking Akira's hips, one arm under her shoulder, weight bearing down—and blushed so deeply she felt it through every inch of her body, an all-encompassing heat.

"Sorry," Akira whispered, the smile turning rueful. "I must have hit my head harder than I thought to say that out loud."

Maybe it was the pure, unbridled relief that Akira hadn't been bitten in two, or the adrenaline pumping through the sudden stammer of her heart, but the reflex to pull away, to excuse herself and pretend this hadn't happened never came.

They were close, of course. Makoto had long since lost track of the days the two of them spent together, despite keeping a meticulous personal journal. Without Akira, she'd still be in the shadow of the principal, of Kamoshida, of every authority figure who wanted her to behave so she could be used like a good little pawn. 

Being a Phantom Thief felt like freedom, but it was Akira who helped her break free to begin with. It was how she learned what she really wanted, and right now what she wanted was—

Oh.

Makoto's face burned behind her mask until she was sure it would turn white hot. Akira was still looking up at her, patient and bloodied as a saint, not making a move like a single breath would break the moment.

"How long?" she finally whispered.

A wicked glint entered Akira's eyes, but there was sympathy too. It was exactly the same look she'd seen when they played pool, when they went to the aquarium, when Akira wiped a thread of syrup off her cheek after they split a stack of pancakes. "For you, or for me?"

That asked and answered far too many questions at once. Before Makoto could choose between them, she heard Ann's whip snap, landing the final blow on the Shadow and sending black particles whispering down the tunnel. There wasn't time.

Except she had to ask, it wasn't right just to— "Can I?"

Akira shifted, gloved fingers resting right above the spikes on her knee. "Take what you want."

Makoto leaned down, because if she thought about it twice, fear would win. Her mask bumped Akira's, forcing her to change the angle at the last minute, and their lips met. She tasted salt and iron but couldn't find the will to care, not when Akira opened up to her without hesitation, both hands now gripping at her thighs.

The kiss was brief, not out of a lack of desire but the very firm reminder that they weren't alone, heralded by a loud honk from Morgana. "Do I have to play ambulance? Is Joker okay?"

"Later," Akira whispered as Makoto pulled away, "we'll talk later."

She thanked the dark corner they were in for hiding the evidence, surreptitiously wiping her mouth with the back of one hand before offering Akira the other. Ann and Ryuji dashed over, panting from exertion, but otherwise intact.

"Jeez, you two almost gave me a heart attack." Ann wrapped her whip back in a coil, quick and nervous reflex. "Usually Joker gets back up the second she's knocked down."

Makoto cleared her throat, searching for an excuse, but Joker answered first. "Just a little dizzy. There's nothing to worry about."

"You sure?" Ryuji dropped his tough-guy slouch, voice low with concern. "That thing was super nasty."

"I'll keep an eye on her," Makoto finally managed to say, "Johanna can heal our leader up just fine."

Thankfully, he accepted that with a nod, and turned back with Ann to hop in Morgana's front seat. A soft laugh left Akira's lips, warm and knowing. The sound sent a shiver up Makoto's spine—and a familiar one.

"Does that mean you're giving me a ride home?" Akira asked.

Makoto considered that the blood in her face was going to stay there permanently, leaving her blushing for life, before logic kicked in. A few hours, perhaps. Maybe a day. "So we can talk?"

"Yeah," she answered, and Makoto heard the smile in Akira's voice.

She'd given Akira a ride on her motorcycle after finals once before, and hadn't thought anything of it beyond the requisite safety measures. Yet Makoto also remembered barely sleeping that night, restless for a reason she couldn't name. 

The reason was certainly Akira pressed tight against her back, arms draped around her stomach, and just enough contact between their helmets that she could hear when the other girl spoke. She simply hadn't put the pieces together the first time.

"Are you doing okay?" Akira asked over the hum of the engine. "This can wait until we're back at Leblanc."

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Makoto murmured. "You're the one who hit your head."

"And you're the one that kissed me."

She  _ had _ . That moment spilled back into her mind in a red-tinged blur, so swift but so satisfying. "I've never done that to anyone before."

"I guessed," Akira said, and gave Makoto a light, comforting squeeze around the ribs. "After the third time we went out and realized you weren't getting my signals."

"Third...what?" She immediately racked her mind for the answer. Sure, there had been study nights or Phantom Thief meetings, and she'd told Eiko that Akira was just a girlfriend without meaning  _ girlfriend _ , so it could only be— "We...we weren't training?"

"At Dome Town?" Even with the helmet on, Akira's chuckle was unmistakable. "Maybe I should have offered to be your study partner instead."

Makoto firmly filed it away as 'embarrassing' that the combination of study and romance had so much allure. "Would you do it again?"

"Study with you?" Akira asked, tone empty of assumptions.

"Take me out," Makoto said softly, "on a date."

"Yeah." There was another squeeze from Akira's arms, but this one lingered. "I can do that."

Without thinking, Makoto leaned into the accelerator, skirting right over the speed limit before she caught herself. It wasn't as if getting Akira home faster meant that they'd go on a date sooner.

On second thought, maybe it was.

She whipped around the next corner in a blur, eager to make up for lost time.

—


End file.
